Unexpected
by Liam2
Summary: The life of Sarah Walker and her musings of it. UPDATED 9/27 PART 9: DREAMS OF LIVING AND DYING
1. Mojitos and Truths

Just a silly little fic I wrote based on my own ideas for the character of Sarah and spoilers from the upcoming season. Episode 10, I think. So beware.

* * *

Life rarely goes as planned, Sarah Lisa Burton, aka Sarah Walker mused.

At 28 years old, Sarah was a seasoned and decorated CIA Agent. A veteran of numerous covert operations. She was the girl assigned to the jobs that absolutely had to get done. And because she always got those jobs done, her future was bright. Assistant Directorship bright, at least. Or so most everyone at the Agency thought.

That wasn't the case eleven years ago. Back then, Sarah knew exactly what her fate would be. And that fate was to spend a series of 12 to 24 month stretches at various women's detention facilities in and around Baltimore.

She could admit it now. She was a bum during her teenage years. Thanks mostly to her father, a career grifter and conman. Together, the duo made a great pair. Whether it was the time when she was 12 and got into an "accident" with an armored car so dad could lift a couple money bags, or when she was 17 and used to distract gas station cashiers with her wares so he could pilfer the registers.

Yeah, she did a lot of naughty stuff. Everything from boosting electronics from warehouses to stealing cars and delivering them to chop shops. Never drugs, though. Dad simply put his foot down when it came to drugs.

It wasn't a bad life. Sure, she did a few stretches in juvie. And yeah, there were times spent in foster care when dad went away (once when he took the blame for a crime she had committed). But he took care of her. His enterprises made enough to send her off to college (which she really didn't want to attend).

The University of Maryland-Baltimore County. It wasn't so bad. At least, the two semesters she actually attended before being expelled for breaking into the psychology offices, copying the tests, and selling them for 20 bucks a pop.

Well, her father had been impressed by her capitalistic spirit. Douglas Walker, UMBC psychology professor – and former CIA Agent – was interested for other reasons.

He stopped by her dorm room as she packed, ready to leave. He told her how impressed he was that she broke in cleanly and left absolutely no evidence of her presence. It was only bad luck one of her clients grew a conscience.

After telling him to piss off, he told her to sit down and shut up. He then proceeded to tell her exactly how worthless her life was going to be if she didn't shape up. He then referred her to an old contact at the Agency. Less than a month later, she was in Langley at the training academy.

To her considerable surprise, she didn't wash out. In fact, she enjoyed it. So much so that she barely even gave thought to stealing Deputy Director Calvin's BMW and selling it to the local chop shop.

Nope. Life certainly didn't go as planned. Ten years ago, Sarah never would have imagined she'd be in Los Angeles, protecting a high value asset. An asset, it should be noted, she was probably in love with. Nor did she imagine herself at said asset's sister's bachelorette party, sipping a mojito and watching a buff young man in a blue thong gyrate to some rock anthem from a 1980's hair band.

On cue, her cell phone rang.

"Hey Chuck. How's Awesome's bachelor party?"

"_Fine, I guess. How are things there?"_

"Good, good. Just terrific," she said as the attractive man waived his junk in her face. "The mojitos here are fantastic. What's in a mojito, anyway? Moe-heeee-toe."

There was a pause on the other end.

"_Are you drunk?"_

"Getting there, yup. Isn't mojito a great word? Moe-heeeee-toe." A pause. "So how are you?"

"_I'm fine. Busy trying to keep Casey from pounding Morgan's skull open."_

"Aw. Morgan. He's like a little pixie. With facial hair."

Another pause.

"_Wow. You are sauced. Do you have a designated driver?"_

"Yup. One of Ellie's lady doctor friends is driving. Moe-heeee-toe. I need another moe-heeee-toe."

"_Yeeeaahhh. You're smashed. Just promise me—Wait. Morgan! Stop that! Don't touch the—" an ear piercing scream echoed from the phone. "Sarah? I gotta take Morgan to the hospital. He tried to touch the stripper and she broke his wrist."_

"Aw. Poor Pixie. Well okay then, Chuck. Love ya."

About two seconds after she snapped the phone shut she realized what she said. Oh well, she was drunk. She couldn't be held accountable.

Sarah fished a c-note from her purse and flashed it at another of the club's gorgeous male employees.

"Hey babe! Fetch me another moe-heeee-toe. And give the lady of the hour a show, would ya?" The pretty boy took the money and smiled. To herself, she murmured, "Moe-heeee-toe."

Suddenly, a smiling and tipsy Ellie turned to her. "Thanks for coming, Sarah. It means a lot to me."

Sarah saluted with her drink. "No problem-o." She frowned. "Problem-o? I don't say problem-o." To Ellie, "Problem-o. That's a very Chuck thing to say, isn't it?"

"Yup," Ellie smiled. "I think he's rubbing off on you. Who knows, maybe one day soon I'll be planning _your_ bachelorette party."

Sarah choked on her moe-heeee-toe.

THE END

Yeah, I know. That was stupid. But what are you gonna do about it? You don't know where I live.


	2. Vanishing Point

Yeah, I thought this story would be a one-off. But I might write more little vignettes like this. That is, if there's a demand for them.

* * *

Sarah Walker was not a TV watcher. Not as an adult anyway.

As a kid she watched the tube. Mostly old Warner Brothers cartoons with her father. Bugs, Daffy, Foghorn Leghorn, Sylvester, Tweety...

Sarah smiled. Tweety. Her dad called her that sometimes. Mostly in the days before she was old enough to assist in his con jobs. In the days when her mother was still around...

Yet here she was, camped out on Chuck Bartowski's bed, watching a Doctor Who marathon on Sci-Fi channel.

"Which Doctor is this again?" she asked.

"Nine. Christopher Eccleston."

"Who's the one I used to watch on PBS as a kid? The one with the scarf?"

"Tom Baker. The Fourth Doctor."

Sarah nodded. "The show's a lot better than I remember."

"Yeah, the Eccleston series was great. Superb acting. Just the right blend of story and special effects. But I think the show's lagged since David Tennant took over. He tends to overact. Plus, Russell Davies got away from the basics that made Series One so good."

God help her, but Sarah was actually listening attentively. "Well I rather liked the London Blitz episodes with Captain Jack."

"Great episodes!" Chuck said proudly. "The guy who wrote those is the showrunner now."

"That ought to be good," Sarah concurred. Honest to God, she thought it was. What the hell has happened to her?

A year ago this would have been absolutely unfeasible. Sarah Walker was a bad ass secret agent chick. Now here she was eating popcorn, drinking a diet Coke, and watching British sci-fi with her pseudo-boyfriend.

And she liked it.

Everything about the present situation was the anti-thesis of her upbringing. During her teenage years she never would have gone for a guy like Chuck. He was a freakin' nerd. Admittedly, a very sexy nerd, but a nerd nonetheless.

Hell, when she was 16, Sarah stole a 1970 Dodge Challenger to impresses the local bad boy after learning his favorite movie was "Vanishing Point". Okay, so she had to break his hand when he too aggressively rounded second base. The point was still valid. Guys like Chuck – who thought Comic-Con was a rip roaring time – had never been her type.

Sarah sipped her Diet Coke. Maybe she was maturing in her old age. Because if she had a cute guy in bed ten years ago, they wouldn't be lounging about watching TV. Strangely enough, she found this far more fulfilling.

Of course, there was so much more about the present situation that simultaneously thrilled and unnerved her. For one, there was Chuck's happy and healthy home environment and support system of loved ones. Try as she might, Sarah was always a little creeped by their...normalcy.

Sarah grew up in a rundown rowhouse in Baltimore. Her father loved her, she knew that with certainty, but theirs was mostly a working relationship. At dinner they'd sit at the couch, watch the locals news and keep a tally of the week's citywide murder count, eat microwavable potpies and discuss job possibilities.

Dad preferred scam jobs. Insurance schemes and the like. Jobs where he could get up close to some poor sucker and see the dull, listless gleam in their eyes as he took them for everything they owned.

Sarah preferred more low-key action like picking pockets. Use their credit cards, charge a dozen Air Jordans, and sell them on the cheap.

But that was her life. No friends. Crappy home. TV dinners. Awkward conversations with dad. Making money. And if she had time, go to school.

But Chuck's life wasn't like that. The thought of conning someone wouldn't cross his mind. And when he came home from an honest day's work, he would sit at the dinner table and eat an honest to God family meal with his loved ones. Actually talking to each other like civilized people, not as scam artists discussing their next marks.

It was weird. It creeped her the hell out.

It was freakin' fabulous.

Suddenly there was a soft knock at the bedroom door and Ellie entered the room. The brunette burst into a wide smile at the sight of her brother and his girlfriend so comfortably lounging on the bed.

"Sarah, will you be staying for dinner? I'm making homemade ravioli."

Damn. Sarah loved Ellie's homemade ravioli.

"I wouldn't want to put you out," she said, playing coy.

"Nonsense! I'll set you a plate right now. We can even crack open that bottle of wine you brought last time."

Sarah tried to hide her smile. "Thank you. If you're sure it's not too much trouble..."

"Of course not! I always make too much anyway."

Ellie closed the door, still smiling at the adorable sight those two made.

Just as Sarah turned back to Doctor Who, Chuck spoke.

"Are you doing anything tonight?"

"I don't think so," Sarah answered. "I'm all caught up on paperwork from our last mission."

"Well," Chuck began shyly, "the Palace Theatre has a midnight showing of 'Vanishing Point'. Wanna come with?"

She could tell. He thought she would say no.

"Vanishing Point, huh? Sure, why not?" Chuck broke into a wide grin that made her heart flutter. "Have I ever told you I actually got a chance to drive that car when I was 16?"

Chuck beamed at the personal tidbit of information. "Really? How was it?"

Sarah sighed fondly at the memory. "It handled like a dream. Maybe I'll show you sometime."

Chuck smiled happily at the thought while Sarah gave it her own consideration. Certainly _someone_ in Los Angeles had a 1970 Dodge Challenger that she could "borrow" sometime.

"Then maybe afterwards we can go out for moe-heeee-toes."

"Shut up, Chuck."

THE END


	3. Carnival

_Part Three. Another little snippet. Please Enjoy. And I'd very much appreciate feedback._

PING! PING! PING! PING! PING! PING! PING! PING! PING! PING!

Chuck, Ellie, and Awesome watched in absolute astonishment as ten little metal duckies got knocked down by ten well placed bb-shots.

Sarah lowered the bb-rifle and eyed the sights critically. She then turned to her female companion and asked, "Which do you want?"

"The purple monkey," Ellie pointed.

The operator of the carnival shooting range took the stuffed purple monkey off the rack and gave it to Ellie, who already sported an impressive collection thanks to Sarah.

Ten shots for three dollars. Sarah had spent exactly 18 dollars on this game. Sixty shots. The first three missed. The next 57 didn't.

"Want anything else?" Sarah asked.

Ellie looked down at the stuffed monkey, walrus, giraffe, penguin, and doggy she held. "Can I have the tiger?"

Sarah slapped three more singles on the counter. "The lady wants a tiger," she informed the carnie.

The carnie pushed the money back. "Sorry. We're out of tigers."

A lie, since all five could see three stuffed tigers hanging inside the booth.

"If you say so," Sarah said. Man, she loved screwing over conmen.

The carnie leaned in close and whispered, "Just get the hell out of here, please?"

The two couples took their load of stuffed animals and resumed wandering about the carnival.

"That was some awesome shooting," Devon said. "Where'd you learn?"

"Just been to a lot of carnivals," Sarah lied smoothly. "They purposely misalign their rifle sights, so it takes a couple shots to compensate. Usually you gotta aim about a quarter inch to the right of target."

"Well, it was incredibly impressive," Ellie said.

"Sarah's always incredibly impressive," Chuck said with a dopey grin. The one that always made Sarah blush. "C'mon, Annie Oakley, how 'bout I treat you to a funnel cake?"

"Sure."

Arm in arm, Sarah allowed Chuck to lead her to the funnel cake stand. Truth was, Sarah loved carnivals. But not just because she was an ace at the shooting gallery.

As a teenager, Sarah loved the fall when the carnival rolled into town. Because it meant lots of people having fun and paying no attention to their wallets.

On a good night, she would pick five or six pockets and make out with about 500 cash and a couple credit cards with a high limit. Then she'd call her dad and meet him at the mall before it closed. They'd hit Foot Locker and Radio Shack, load up on sneakers and electronics, and get the hell out before anyone was the wiser. For the next couple weeks they'd have a steady stream of income.

Thing is, she could only realistically pull it off twice per carnival before someone caught on. The same pretty blond girl shows up three times alone, always on a night when people got pickpocketed, even carnie morons could put that together.

Even now, as Sarah and Chuck found a bench where they could stop and eat their treat, she was surveying the crowd. Primarily to make sure there were no potential threats to Chuck. But her old instinct to find an easy mark was coming through.

Sarah watched as a middle aged father at the cotton candy stand slipped his wallet into his side jacket pocket. Well groomed, tasteful clothes. Same for his wife and children. No doubt he'd have a few dandy credit cards.

Then there was the young mother near the tilt-a-whirl ride. She was presently distracted, tending to her young child who got sick on the ride. Sarah could offer her "assistance". See if the child was okay. Meanwhile she could slip a hand inside the woman's big, bulky handbag and lift her wallet.

"So this has been fun, right?"

Sarah munched on her funnel cake and nodded enthusiastically. It had been fun.

"I know this probably isn't your idea of a good time," Chuck said lamely.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't take this wrong, but I didn't think you'd come. A carnival seems kind of...low."

Sarah smiled. "No offense taken. Besides, you'd be surprised what my idea of fun was as a teen."

Chuck's brows quirked. It probably wasn't fair to tease him. They both knew she couldn't divulge.

"Maybe someday you'll tell me?"

"Someday."

Not a chance. Good guy like Chuck, he'd be horrified to discover what type of girl she'd been. Hell, what type of girl she still was.

Then Sarah noticed something. Near the Ferris wheel, a gangly looking kid. And his eyes were locked on the well groomed man with the wife and two kids.

"I'll be back in a sec," Sarah said. "Hold my funnel cake?"

Sarah blindly handed him the treat, still focused on the kid.

The kid was on an intercept course for the man. The contact was brief, a believable "accident". Sarah had to admit, the kid was good. She liked the bump method. She used to wear a tanktop while performing it. If a guy was watching her tits, he wasn't watching his wallet.

Luckily enough, she was wearing a very flattering purple tank tonight. The kid saw her coming, but never stood a chance. A wide smile, a flash of cleavage, an innocent bump... it wouldn't be until much later that he would discover he'd been had.

Sarah checked the wallet she lifted off the kid. Mark David Ellis. The well-groomed man.

She caught up with the man at the Gravitron ride. "Sir!" she called. "You dropped this back at the cotton candy stand."

The man patted his jacket pocket. No wallet there. He sighed in relief at seeing it indeed was his wallet that Sarah offered.

"Oh, Miss, thank you so much!"

"No problem. Have a nice night." She waved at the man and his gorgeous family. She couldn't stop the longing sigh that escaped her lips.

A few minutes later, Sarah returned to the bench. Sure enough, Chuck was there waiting. His face lit up when he saw her. Her heart fluttered at the sight.

"Where'd you run off to?" he asked.

"Little girls' room." Sarah accepted her funnel cake and looped her arm around his. "So what's next on the carnival experience?"

"Oh, it's the main event of the evening," Chuck said in grandiose fashion. "It's what we Bartowski's always end the night on."

"Which would be?"

Chuck leaned in and whispered, "Bumper cars." Sarah snorted in laughter. "But you gotta watch out. Once Ellie gets behind the wheel she becomes a complete maniac. Seriously, little children have lost limbs."

"I'll be sure to keep all body parts inside the vehicle," Sarah retorted.

Off they went to rejoin Ellie and Awesome.

THE END


	4. Bela Lugosi, Screwdrivers, and Ice Cream

Well, this is the longest part yet. And it may be the last one for awhile. I might post one or two more before the season two premiere, but after that, who knows. As always, feedback is welcome. And frankly, if you don't leave feedback, I'll find out where you live and kidnap your pet. Oh yeah, I'm crazy enough to do it.

* * *

_Sarah's Apartment_

"Are you about done, Sarah?" Chuck asked. "We need to go."

Inside the bathroom, Sarah called out, "Just a couple more minutes."

Once again, it was October 31st. Halloween. Once again, Ellie and Awesome were hosting their annual Costume Party. And once again, Sarah would be dressing up like a fanboy's wet dream. All in the name of making Chuck happy.

Oh, yeah, and to better blend into his life so that she might offer better protection.

Sarah checked the image she printed off the Internet a few days earlier and compared it to her own image in the mirror. The clothes were right. Hair. Accessories. But something was missing… she glanced one more time at the printout. Oh yeah! Sunglasses.

Sarah slipped on the dark, stylish shades and observed the final product. She could see what was so appealing about this ensemble. Even she could admit – she looked like a walking heart attack.

"Okay!" she called out. "You better appreciate the effort I put into this! Here I come!"

Sarah stepped out of the bathroom. Chuck instantly froze at the sight, except for his jaw, which hit the floor.

Blue-green sleeveless shirt, light brown shorts, calf-high boots, white socks, fingerless gloves. Even a small backpack and a utility belt with two holsters, each loaded with prop (or so Chuck assumed) Desert Eagle pistols. Sarah's blonde hair was dyed brown and pulled back into a tight ponytail, except for a slight whisp that hung near her left eye.

She was—

Sarah Walker

as

Lara Croft: Tomb Raider

This movie rated: HCSFH (Holy Crap She's Freakin' Hot)

And back to the regularly scheduled broadcast—

Chuck's knees turned to Jell-O and he nearly collapsed to the floor. Sarah didn't notice, too busy fiddling with her bra.

"I haven't had to stuff my bra since I was 15. How do I look? Did I get it right?"

"Yeah," he said in a falsetto voice. He coughed, then in a normal voice, "You got it right."

"Thanks," she smiled. "We should go. I promised to help Ellie set up. And you need to get your costume ready. It takes two to sandworm."

* * *

_Devon and Ellie's Apartment_

It was another wild one. Music. Food. Dancing. Drinking.

As always, Devon and Ellie were gracious hosts. Dressed as Batman and Catwoman, they orchestrated the party to precision.

As always, Chuck and Morgan drew rave reviews with their sandworm costume.

And Sarah spent most of the night shooting down the advances of every guy with a video game fetish. Which, as it turned out, was nearly every guy in attendance.

There was a particularly weasely guy—Awesome said he was a radiology tech at the hospital—who just wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Hey baby!" Weasel Man said. "Lookin' at you makes me want to plug in my joystick."

Behind Sarah's sweet smile was murderous intent. Checking to see if anyone was watching, she took Weasel's hand and discretely lured him to a dark corner of the courtyard.

"Very brazen," she cooed once they had privacy. She lifted his hand to her lips and gave it a kiss. "I can't begin to tell you what I think about that." Her sweet smile disappeared, replaced by open malice. "Actually, I can."

With a quick jerk, Weasel was on his knees, gasping in pain. His thumb cocked at an awkward angle, literally near the breaking point.

"Seriously? That's your pickup line? If you even look at me again, I'll cut the cord off your joystick. Understood?"

Weasel nodded. When Sarah released his thumb, he took off running. With a sigh, Sarah retreated back towards Chuck's apartment. On nights like this, she regretted the fact she quit smoking when she joined the Academy. But at least she still drank.

* * *

Knowing Awesome and Ellie wouldn't mind, Sarah rummaged around a few kitchen cabinets until she found a bottle of vodka. She then checked the refrigerator and found a bottle of orange juice. Grabbing a glass and filling it with ice, she retreated to Chuck's room, intent on losing herself at the bottom of a screwdriver.

* * *

Sarah kicked back on Chuck's bed and flipped on the television. It was already tuned to an old black and white horror movie. Lon Chaney. Bela Lugosi as Frankenstein's monster. Must be 1943's "Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man". The first so-called "ensemble" monster movie Universal Studios produced.

She paused a moment, just as she was about to pour vodka. Whoa. Chuck really was rubbing off on her if she knew _that_ tidbit.

She finished mixing her drink and took a long pull. Gave some serious thought to going down to the nearest convenience store and getting a pack of Pall Mall's. Did they still make those? Or better yet, a big damn stogie. That might relax her. Hell, Casey might have one…

She decided against it. Chances are, if she started again, she wouldn't stop. Instead, she laid back and prepared to brood.

Halloween, like most other holidays, was a mixed bag for Sarah. As a kid she used to trick or treat. It was fun. At least while her mother was still around. But once she left, the activity took on a different meaning.

She became the advanced scout. Scouring the neighborhoods, checking for houses that were dark. Houses she knew where young children lived. Children whose parents accompanied them on their own trick or treat excursions.

Sarah could remember at age 11, dressed as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, scouting for dark houses and then finding a payphone to relay the addresses to her father. They'd pick the best house and gather up all the jewelry and other precious knickknacks that could be carried out in a trick or treat bag. The next day they'd pay a visit to Ernie the Fencer and sell off their merchandise.

Once she was old enough to drive (i.e. steal a car), Halloween changed again. It became an opportunity to get away. An excuse to get drunk. Smoke some pot. Get into a fight. Find a guy – or that one time, a girl – and try for a few hours to forget just how crappy her life was.

Sarah drained half her screwdriver in one gulp and absently watched the Wolf Man and Frankenstein's Monster do battle. Suddenly there was a knock at the window. Just his presence pulled her from her funk. She smiled as Chuck pushed the window open and crawled inside.

"Hey there," he said. "You okay?" He indicated the drink in her hand.

"Yeah. Just needed a breather from all the gawkers and gropers."

Sarah could see the protective instinct ignite in his eyes. It was so sweet.

"Who groped you?"

Sarah waved away his concern. Held out her hand. Chuck joined her, smiled when he saw what was playing on the TV.

"Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man. Not bad. Though I can't say I care for Lugosi as Frankenstein's Monster."

"I know," Sarah agreed. "Karloff gave the role an intensity Lugosi couldn't match. Lugosi was far more suited for Dracula. His cadence was sexy and chilling at the same time." She marveled at the fact she could actually discuss Classic Universal Monster movies with expertise. Chuck really was rubbing off on her. "Actually, I thought Lon Chaney Jr. made a better Dracula."

Chuck looked at her as if she'd just blasphemed. "Are you kidding? His performance in "Son of Dracula" was boring compared to Lugosi. He didn't exhibit any of the charisma. Besides, it's obvious Christopher Lee was the best Dracula."

"Come on, Chaney brought a physicality, a power to the role. He was imposing. And the Hammer movies confused sex with sensuality. Plus, they never gave Lee enough to do."

Good Lord. It was official. She was a complete nerd.

It was kinda cool.

"Of course, I just like Chaney," she continued. "Wolf Man is the best."

"Really?" Chuck said, surprised. "I prefer Karloff's Frankenstein Monster."

Sarah shook her head. "Wolf Man had the most depth. He was a good man horrified by his evil deeds. He didn't want to do the things he did. He was…infected. The evil was forced upon him. For him, death was a release from his torment."

For a moment, Chuck was speechless. Merely watched as Sarah took another long sip off her screwdriver.

"Wow. That's…bleak."

"Life is bleak sometimes."

"Oh, come on," he smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "It isn't all bad. After all, we're young. We're both terribly good looking." That got a smile out of her. "We save the world on a regular basis. And at the end of the day, there's always…ice cream."

Sarah blinked. Did she hear him right?

"Ice cream?"

"Ice cream," Chuck nodded. "You see, I'm thinkin' we should blow this joint and hit Dairy Queen. Snickers Blizzard for me, a waffle bowl sundae for Madam Tomb Raider. Then maybe we can hit the arcade. Blow a few quarters on air hockey. Or maybe Zombie Holocaust. I bet you'd find shooting zombies to be incredibly therapeutic."

Sarah stared at him. Even though he could be a little thick in the head sometimes, Chuck decoded her expression. Or at least he thought he did. Was it…adoration?

"Chuck Bartowski, you're a good man."

Like a complete goofball, Chuck blushed, stammered, "Yeah, well, you're not so bad yourself."

Sarah looked away. "Do you really think so?"

For Chuck, it was an easy answer. "Well…yeah."

He said it so simply, but the conviction behind his words was nearly overwhelming. "Correction. Chuck, you're a _damn _good man."

He shrugged, as if to say "I know."

Sarah fought back the tears she wanted to cry and stood with a slight wobble. She drank too fast. But of course, Chuck was there in an instant to keep her upright.

"Thanks." Her breath caught as she looked up into his eyes. She knew, without question, that he was absolutely in love with her. Had known for quite a while. And at this moment…

Maybe – someday – when this mission was all over – she could tell him about her life. Maybe he wouldn't run away…

Sarah shook away the thought. It didn't matter. That day wouldn't be coming any time soon. And in this line of work, she couldn't even be sure she'd be alive to see it through.

"Can I borrow a sweater?" she asked. "It's kind of chilly out there and this costume doesn't do much."

"Sure."

He retrieved a crimson Stanford sweater from his closet. Sarah moved to slip it on, hesitating only a moment to inhale his scent. It warmed her – and to be perfectly honest – disturbed her how comforting she found the smell to be.

The sweater was baggy, reaching to the bottom of her shorts. Frankly, she looked a little ridiculous. But for the moment, she didn't care. Not about protocol, or about her own screwed up past. Right here, right now, she was just gonna be a regular girl. She would be Chuck's doting girlfriend.

"So, are you gonna take your girlfriend out for ice cream and zombie killing or what?"

"Hey, I'm just waiting on you." Chuck quipped. He pushed open the window for Sarah to crawl out. "And might I say, you make a great brunette."

"You think so?"

Sarah wasn't all that impressed by her brunette-do, but if Chuck liked it…

THE END


	5. Fake Boyfriends and Real Flowers

Part Five. Give me feedback or else. Okay, empty threat, I know. But I'm not the sort who begs. Well, I am, but not this time. Fine, will you please review? I'll give you a dollar. Well, no I won't.

* * *

Sarah was not a romantic. That goes for both Burton – civilian – and Walker – super secret agent.

That probably goes without saying for Walker. The agent lifestyle isn't terribly conducive to romance, what with the covert infiltrations and occasional assassinations and the protecting of assets _who won't stay in the freakin' car._

But Burton sucked at romance, too. In her 19 years, she never had a boyfriend. Not one. Sure, she had lots of sex. Sex with guys – and a few girls – that she really wished she could scrub from her memory banks. Fact is, her most meaningful relationship was with the 29 year old bartender who'd ignore the fact she was 17 and supply her with beer. All in exchange for a quickie in the backseat of his old Cutlass after work.

Not that she didn't like the idea of romance. She did, she really did. She just accepted the concept for what is was – make-believe.

She loved a good, sappy movie as much as the next girl. "An Affair to Remember" and "Roman Holiday" got her every time. And she would have loved for a nice guy to take her out to a fancy dinner where she could dress pretty. Or buy her little gifts for no reason at all. Hell, just once she'd like to answer the door and see a deliveryman with a vase of flowers.

Sarah Burton/Walker had never – not once – received flowers from anyone in her entire life. Not even from Bryce Larkin. And that hurt more than she'd ever publicly admit.

Then Chuck Bartowski came along.

* * *

Sarah sighed, counting down the minutes until her lunch break. She was tired of dealing with horny adolescent boys – the same ones who used to frequent the Wienerlicious and ogle her. She swore, the next kid who giggled a lame ass double entendre was gonna get a bowl of yogurt dumped on their—

Suddenly, the entrance opened and a flower deliveryman entered. Sarah and the two other girls on shift – both college students – curiously watched as the deliveryman walked to the counter.

"Sarah Walker?" he asked.

She nodded. Who they hell was sending her flowers? Her agent instincts kicked into gear. This could be a trick.

Sarah signed for the vase of flowers – a hodgepodge of different varieties. A couple long stem roses, lilacs, carnations, lilies, tulips, irises and some baby's breath mixed in. Strange arrangement, but beautiful.

"I wonder who this is from?" she mused aloud.

"I bet it's from your cute computer nerd," Megan said.

"Or maybe a secret admirer," Lacey suggested.

Sarah took the accompanying card and cautiously opened it. All tension in her body melted. As did her heart.

_I know the new job's been tough on you, so I thought I'd cheer you up. I didn't know what your favorite flower is, so I ordered a little of everything._

_Your favorite asset,_

_Chuck_

As Sarah fought back a few tears, the other girls read the card. They cooed in delight.

"Oh, that's so sweet!" Lacey bubbled. "My boyfriend never sends me flowers at work."

"Neither does mine," Megan pouted. "What's this 'asset' thing? Some sort of private joke?"

"Something like that," Sarah said. It probably wasn't smart, but she came to a decision. "Would you mind if I cut out for lunch early?"

The girls knew her intentions. It was Megan who spoke. "Go see your man. And tell him me and Lace give him a big 'Attaboy'."

Sarah smiled. An honest to goodness, goofy, girl-in-love smile.

"I will," she promised.

With that, Sarah threw away her apron and left the shop.

* * *

When Sarah entered the Buy More, she immediately spotted him. He was at the Nerd Herd hub with Morgan and gang. In fact, it was Morgan who alerted him to her presence. A warm feeling spread across her body when he flashed his patented goofy smile – a smile she apparently was now using herself.

She gave a discrete nod to the Home Theatre Room and went in. A few moments later, Chuck joined her.

"Next time you send me flowers," Sarah began, "would you please not sign them 'Your favorite asset'?"

Of course, as a CIA Agent, she should have said "I am your freakin' handler. If you ever send me flowers again I'll rip off your arm and beat you to death with it. You could serious jeopardize our cover pulling a stunt like that, you moron!"

With quiet understanding, both knew the implications of her statement. "If you wanna send me flowers again, I wouldn't mind." They shared a shy smile.

"Sorry," Chuck said. "I imagine Soft Serve Queen by day is kinda boring compared to Secret Agent by night. I thought flowers might brighten things up."

"It did," Sarah assured him. "And Lacey and Megan said to give you an Attaboy."

Chuck blushed. Sarah found that adorable.

Truth was, he was absolutely right. Compared to her real job, working at a yogurt shop was torture. Most days she wondered how she kept from going postal. An especially bad thought considering she kept three pistols, a pump action shotgun, and an Uzi hidden in or around the shop.

"Listen, I'm glad you came over," Chuck began, "because I want to ask you a favor."

"Okay."

"Can you swing by the apartment tonight? Maybe 7:30?"

Sarah hesitated. Tonight? Damn. They had no operation scheduled for that night, so she had planned to order Thai food, soak in a bubble bath, and pop in her DVD of "Arsenic and Old Lace". She loved Cary Grant.

But the way he was looking at her, Sarah knew she had no chance of refusing him. The agent in her knew she should be concerned with that, but the little girl in her who wanted to believe in romance was telling the agent in her to shut the hell up.

"Sure. I'll be there."

Chuck grinned. Not the usual grin. Rather a sneaky, cat that ate the canary, sort of grin. She knew she should find that disconcerting. But it was Chuck. And if Sarah knew anything, it was that Chuck could be trusted.

"Great! Don't worry about bringing anything. And dress casual."

* * *

Sarah entered the courtyard of Chuck's apartment at 7:25 PM. Her agent instincts instantly kicked in when she noticed how dark everything was. There were no lights coming from the apartment.

She reached into her purse and fingered her last resort weapon – a .22 caliber Ladysmith. Everything about the moment was telling her something was off. Maybe she should get Casey…

Instead, she knocked on the door. Muffled, she heard Chuck's voice, "It's open. Come on in!"

Sarah withdrew the Ladysmith from her purse, removed the safety and held it behind her back. Cautiously she opened the door…

Suddenly the lights flipped on and she was greeted by an enthusiastic chorus of "Surprise!"

Sarah nearly fired her pistol at the shock. Gathered about the living room were Chuck, Awesome, Ellie, Morgan, and Casey. Balloons and streamers galore littered the room. A big damn banner declared "Happy Birthday Sarah!"

As Ellie rushed to give her a hug, Sarah discretely tucked the pistol back into her purse.

"Oh! Happy Birthday Sarah!" Ellie laughed.

"Thank you. But you really didn't have to do this," Sarah said. What the hell was going on?

"Hey! It isn't every day that my brother's girlfriend turns 26! Besides, it gives me an excuse to bake my famous double chocolate fudge cake. Oh! And I made lasagna. I know how much you love my lasagna."

Sarah really did love her lasagna. But that didn't explain… She looked to Chuck and Casey. The latter just shrugged, seemingly bored. The former smiled. "Just play along."

"Sorry," Ellie continued to gush. "I wanted to make the party bigger but _somebody_ only clued me in to your birthday this morning." She said that with a pointed look at Chuck.

Devon approached next and gave her a hearty handshake. "The big 2-6, huh? Awesome age. Happy birthday, Sarah."

"Thanks," was Sarah's awkward reply. 26? What the hell?

Morgan then offered his own best wishes before Chuck stepped up. Knowing she was confused as hell, he allowed her to lead him aside.

"Chuck…?"

"Like I said, it looked like the daily grind was wearing you down. I thought a birthday party was just what the doctor ordered."

He did this for her? That was so…

"I know you can't tell me your real birthday and I understand. But Ellie was actually bugging me about this a couple weeks ago. I thought about it again this morning, so… Hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. This is really… Thank you, Chuck."

Sarah delivered a quick peck to his lips. "And I really appreciate you rounding down on my age."

Chuck seemed surprised. "Really? I thought I went too high."

On impulse, Sarah gave him another kiss. This time a little deeper.

"What was that for?"

"Mastering the art of sweet talk," Sarah replied.

Chuck blushed. "C'mon, let's go eat. Remember to save room for desert. You haven't lived until you've tried Ellie's double chocolate fudge cake."

* * *

The night was a blast. It was the first time since she turned 11 that she had celebrated a birthday.

After stuffing themselves on lasagna, cake was served. The Bartowski's insisted on lighting candles and singing for her. After which Devon suggested Chuck give her 26 spanks and one to grow on. Everyone laughed at how red he turned.

The cake was as good as advertised. Nearly sinfully good. After it was finished, the kitchen table was cleared. Wine was poured. A deck of cards was dealt. For the better part of two hours they played poker and told lewd stories. Even Casey got into the spirit of things after Sarah assured him it wasn't actually her birthday and hadn't told Chuck something so personal.

In the spy game, the world doesn't stop for birthdays. It doesn't stop for anything. Bosses certainly don't care if it's your birthday. And it really wasn't smart to share such a personal detail with coworkers. Even Bryce had no idea when her birthday was and vice versa.

But growing up… birthdays were cool. At least when mom was still around. They'd start the day by going shopping. Mom would always buy her the prettiest new dress to wear at her party. Then they'd go to the local theatre to see the movie of her choice.

Early afternoon they'd return home. Mom would get to work baking a birthday cake. Then her school friends would begin to arrive, usually about a dozen. Then around six dinner would arrive. Pizza Hut pizzas.

At night, after her bath, mom would come into her room. They'd sit at the vanity table, looking into the mirror. Mom would comb the wet tangles from Sarah's hair and tell her how much she had grown over the past year, how much more beautiful she had become.

Then mom was gone. Dad's birthday tradition was to give Sarah a c-note and tell her not to spend it all in once place. Birthdays weren't worth celebrating after that. Because it didn't feel like home anymore.

* * *

It was nearly midnight before the party broke up. Morgan reluctantly left. Casey departed (with a doggy bag of cake and lasagna, at Ellie's insistence).

Sarah and Chuck sat on the ground, their backs pressed against the fountain in the courtyard. She burped softly and rubbed her stomach. Such an uncouth action would have been unthinkable a year ago, at least in the presence of the asset. But that was then and it was Chuck. He smiled, amused.

"Belly full?"

Without opening her eyes, Sarah nodded. "I'm gonna hafta hit the treadmill to work off the calories. It wouldn't do to have a chubby secret agent."

With her eyes closed, Chuck was able to freely examine her body. "I wouldn't worry about that."

She cracked open an eye and smiled. "Thank you. This was the best fake-birthday ever."

"Would you expect anything less from the best fake-boyfriend ever?" Chuck grinned cheekily.

"Someday you're gonna make a girl a great real-boyfriend."

A moment. Probably the wrong thing to say. But Chuck simply replied:

"All a girl has to do is ask."

Sarah wanted to blurt it out. "Will you be my real-boyfriend?" Wanted to climb into his lap, smother him with kisses and ask if he'd have her, despite her screwed up childhood, despite that she was a murderous secret agent.

But she didn't. Because he deserved better.

When it became obvious he wouldn't get an answer, he reached into his back pocket and removed a long, thin jewelry box.

"Look," Chuck said, "I got you a little something. It isn't much. Then again, if it were, I thought that might make you uncomfortable."

"Chuck, you didn't have to…" Sarah popped open the box. Inside was a simple necklace made of colored beads. It probably cost all of ten dollars and was sold in any number of shops in the mall.

Yet Sarah was nearly moved to tears. Only her mother had given her jewelry.

"It's beautiful," she whispered honestly.

"I thought it'd go great with that green top you like."

Smart, funny, handsome, and good fashion sense. Maybe she should just be selfish and make a play for him.

"You're amazing," Sarah blurted.

Chuck merely shrugged. "So everyone keeps saying."

Sarah simply stared at him. The combination of a beautiful necklace, wine, and a full stomach loosening her inhibitions. "You know, if this relationship were remotely real, this would be the part where'd I be forced to kiss you goodnight."

Chuck smiled, remembering this conversation. "Forced? Would it be so bad?"

"I think I could suffer through it." Unlike last time, Sarah didn't walk away. She leaned in and offered a short, tender kiss. "Thank you," she said.

Chuck nodded mutely, surprised by the kiss. He then took the necklace and swept her hair aside. In moments, the gift was draped around her neck.

Sarah's eyes met his. She could see the spark, the desire held within the dark depths of his eyes.

"It's late," Chuck stuttered, "would you… Do you want to just stay here tonight? So you don't have to drive?"

"Yes," Sarah answered honestly. Chuck gasped at her frankness. Then, "But I won't. Because if I do, I might never leave."

Chuck sighed. The song remained the same. "And that's bad for the mission, right?"

"Right. Bad for the mission."

Chuck nodded. With a groan he stood. Offered a hand and helped her up. Again they were eye to eye, lips inches apart.

This time, Sarah turned to walk away. But then she stopped. _Don't do it_, her logical side screamed._ You'll jeopardize everything. The Intersect, your career. If you do it--_

"Screw logic," she decided. She turned back to Chuck. "Got a baggy shirt I can sleep in?"

Chuck grinned so widely Sarah thought it might split his face. "Yeah. I do."

"Just swear to me you'll stay on your side of the bed."

"I swear," Chuck said, along with a left handed scout's salute.

Sarah easily slipped her hand in his. "Scouts salute with the right hand."

"Oh. I was never a scout. I hate camping."

"Yeah, after that time in Pakistan, I'm not fond of camping either." Sarah paused, horrified she said that aloud. Just another sign she was lowering her defenses. "I never said that," she insisted.

"Heard what?" he asked, playing along. "C'mon, we can still catch the Colbert Report before bed."

"Colbert? Cool."

Soon as they reentered the apartment, Ellie squealed in delight. Awesome gave his usual blunt congratulations that she was spending the night. Sarah smiled.

This was home.


	6. Justified Means

I don't know where this chapter came from. It's a stark departure from the previous entries. In fact, I'm bumping up the rating level because of the darker themes. So if you're into fluff, turn away now. If you like the idea of Sarah getting royally pissed because someone messed with her man, read on. As always, me likey feedback.

EDITED: Yeah, I had this part up for a few hours, then took it down to make a few tweaks. Now it's back.

* * *

Sarah never had extremely high self-esteem. Sure she was smart and beautiful. A highly respected agent and rising star at the CIA. But all that doesn't high self-esteem make.

And the fact that Chuck Bartowski, The Intersect, her asset, the man she swore to protect, was lying in a hospital bed near death didn't help matters either. Nor did the fact that she wasn't there when he was hurt. Or the fact there was nothing she could do now to help him. Except, of course, to make sure the person who put him in the hospital suffered a very slow, violent, and painful death.

Tearfully, Sarah collected Chuck's large hand in her own and gently kissed it. "C'mon, Chuck. Talk to me."

Chuck didn't respond. Unconscious. An unknown toxin coursing through his veins. Hooked to all sorts of wires. A ventilation tube jammed down his throat to keep him breathing. The heart monitor giving off an agonizingly slow beeping rhythm.

"Listen, Chuck," Sarah began, "I know you think I'm a good person. But I'm really not. I've done so many bad things in my life. Some of them before I even became an agent. Though I'm afraid of disappointing you, I feel I should be honest. Because you deserve honesty. When I find the person who hurt you…I'm gonna commit each and every one of those bad acts upon him."

Sarah expected his dark eyes to flutter open. For him to grab onto her, begging her no. That it wasn't worth it.

Nothing. Just the steady rise and fall of his chest, aided by the ventilator he was attached to.

Sarah swept away a few locks of hair from his forehead and kissed him gently. With a longing look back, she left the room. In the hallway, each with a stricken expression, were Ellie, Devon, and Morgan.

"I'm done," she said softly. "Whoever wants to see him next…"

It was Morgan's turn. Sarah exchanged a brief hug with the little man before he entered the room.

"Ellie…" she cried softly. Suddenly Chuck's sister was wrapping her in a hug. Ellie simply held her for several minutes, cooing into her ear, letting her cry.

_STOP IT! Get a hold of yourself, Walker! What the hell use does sputtering like a woman serve?_

Sarah pulled away. Wiped the tears from her eyes. "Ellie, I'm sorry, but I gotta get out of here…"

Ellie wiped away her own tears. Nodded in understanding. "It's okay. Take a break. I'll call if anything changes."

Sarah nodded, hugged Ellie again. Then she was quickly walking away. Not to hide tears, but the murderous resolve in her eyes. Soon as she reached the elevator, she pulled out her cellphone.

"Casey, it's me."

* * *

Just the night before everything was fine. Better than fine actually. For Sarah, life had reached a level of contentment she never before thought possible.

Chuck had come over to her hotel room, two bags of Mexican food in hand. Then like the sweet-fake-but-getting-realer-by-the-minute-boyfriend that he was, Chuck indulged in her Cary Grant fixation and watched a double bill of "Arsenic and Old Lace" and "Charade" with her.

After they ate, they moved to the couch. Sarah laid her head in his lap. Most of the night she felt the soothing motion of fingers running through her hair. It relaxed her so much that she fell asleep early during "Charade".

It was 2 AM when she awoke, head still in Chuck's lap. When she looked up she found Chuck's sleepy eyes gazing down upon her.

"Why didn't you wake me? Sitting up like that can't be comfortable."

"It never occurred to me," Chuck admitted.

Sarah then insisted he go home. While their relationship had continued to evolve, even to the point where they frequently slept together, sex had yet to come into play. But Sarah knew that if Chuck stayed on this night, that barrier would come tumbling down.

It was shortly after 6 AM when Sarah's cellphone began to chirp. She was surprised to see it was Ellie.

"Hey, is everything okay?"

"I don't know," Ellie said, the worry evident in her voice. "Pardon my asking, but did Chuck spend the night with you?"

Instantly, Sarah was completely awake. "He left shortly after two. Are you telling me he didn't come home?"

"No." The worry in Ellie's voice went off the charts. Sarah was right there with her, but managed to keep it together.

"Okay. Listen to me. Just be calm. Stay there in case he comes home or calls. I'll retrace the route he takes home."

"Yeah, okay." There was an obvious tremor to Ellie's voice.

"Ellie, relax. I'm sure he's okay. Everything will be all right."

Everything wasn't all right.

* * *

At 5:15 AM, Chuck Bartowski was arrested by police for causing a disturbance at a local grocery store. Officers said his behavior was erratic and assumed it was due to the use of an illegal substance.

At 7:03 AM, Chuck collapsed in his holding cell, suffering from some sort of seizure. He was rushed to the local hospital.

At 7:54 AM, the police finally notified Chuck's next of kin. When Ellie, Devon, and Sarah arrived, Chuck was unconscious in the Intensive Care Unit.

At 9:47 PM, initial toxicology results indicated the cause of Chuck's condition was not drug abuse, but likely a deliberate poisoning.

* * *

Sarah was raised a good Catholic girl. At least, her mother raised her that way. Sarah hadn't actually stepped foot inside a church since she was 11 years old.

But on this day, she found herself in one, remembering the conversation she just had on the phone with Casey.

"_Our Docs are analyzing the substance found in Chuck's blood. It's some sort of neurotoxin. Systematically shuts down the body's electricity. First the person becomes hyperactive, like a junkie on amphetamines. That's followed by seizures. Then autonomous functions begin to shut down."_

"_How long does he have?"_

"_If his lungs aren't working, it's only a matter of time before the electricity cuts out in his brain or heart. Six, maybe eight hours." A beat. "Listen, Walker…"_

"_Casey, no," she said strongly. "I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to hear that the docs are working on it. I want to find the sonofabitch that did this and put a bullet through his brain."_

_There was a pause. Then Casey asked, "Walker, I feel I should I ask. Are you in love with the asset?"_

"_So what if I am?"_

_Casey sighed. "Is it gonna affect your performance?"_

"_It's already affected my performance, Casey. I've let so many of my defensive walls crumble. I've come to think of his family as my own. So yeah, it's gonna affect my performance. Now I'm gonna do everything I can to kill the sonofabitch that hurt him. Even if it means my own life." _

"_Christ, Walker…"_

"_No! Don't you dare lecture me right now."_

"_Well you need to calm down."_

"_I don't want to calm down! I want to… I feel like my heart has been ripped from my chest. Like this person took away the best part of me, the only really good thing that's happened to me since I was a girl…"_

"_Walker…"_

"_No! This guy made the profoundly stupid mistake of screwing with the man I love. Now he gets to suffer for it."_

_A sigh. "Fine. What are you planning to do?"_

"_I'm gonna find out where Chuck was infected and track the guy from there."_

"_And then?"_

"_Then_ _I'm gonna do something no amount of Hail Mary's will ever make up for."_

The parish priest walked by the pew where Sarah sat.

"Are you okay, my child?"

"No, Father, I'm not."

The priest gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Would you like to speak of what's troubling you?"

"Not yet, Father. Just… keep a confessional open for me. In a few hours I'm gonna have a lot to talk about."

The priest seemed to understand. "Please, do not take any actions you will later regret."

"Already have, Father. What's one more item to the list?"

* * *

Sarah found the point of contact fairly easily. At 2:30 AM, only so many businesses in her neighborhood were actually open. And she bet that Chuck might have stopped somewhere for a fresh soda…

And he did. A convenience store. All it took was a quick flash of her CIA credentials to get a look at the surveillance tapes…

* * *

Bobby Gilliam parked his cherry red 1964 Ford Mustang in the alleyway behind his apartment. He swore he hadn't been followed home. Yet, before he lost consciousness, he saw a blonde form swinging the stock of a very large shotgun at his head.

* * *

When Bobby Gilliam woke, he was chained to a kitchen chair, a chair that was currently located in the middle of his shower. His head hurt like a sonofabitch. And overall he had a real bad feeling about his current situation.

Those feelings were reinforced when he noticed the blonde woman – a frighteningly calm blonde woman – holding a power drill in gloved hands.

The woman saw that he was awake. Instead of immediately tearing into him, she simply returned to the tool, choosing between a dozen drill bits.

"First off, I'd like to thank you for driving such a distinctive car. Made it terribly easy to track you down." A few moments later, "I gather from what I saw in the other room that you're a bit of a mad scientist," the woman coolly stated. "I feel we should have a proper introduction. I understand your name is Robert Gilliam, yes?"

The man nodded as the woman settled on a drill bit – about 1/8 inch in size. She then slapped in a battery and gave the drill a test _WHIRR_.

"Okay Robert. My name is Nasty Bitch. And please, that is how I'd like for you to address me. At least until I cut out your tongue."

Bobby gulped. Something about this woman made him believe the threat.

"I don't know who you work for. And frankly, I don't care. What I do know is that you injected a friend of mine with a lethal neurotoxin. Or do you deny this allegation?"

Bobby remained silent, seriously doubting there was a right answer to her question.

"I'll take that as a no."

Nasty Bitch took a seat on the toilet and stared off into space. He could see a fury in the blue depths of her eyes that frightened the hell out of him.

"I'm gonna be honest with you, Bobby. Can I call you Bobby?"

Bobby didn't speak. Nasty Bitch simply shrugged.

"Here's the situation, Bobby. There is absolutely no chance of you surviving this encounter. So don't bother pleading with me, or offering me an exorbitant sum of money, or telling me the people you work for are Bad Men and will seek retribution. I don't care. I want to kill you. I will kill you. I will enjoy killing you. And consequences be damned."

Bobby knew she was completely serious.

"The only question is this: How much pain are you willing to endure before you give me what I need?"

"What do you want?" Bobby said.

Nasty Bitch stared blankly at him. Then suddenly she jammed the drill into his knee and fired. The bit twisted through flesh and into bone. Bobby screamed.

"You will address me by my name," she said.

"Nasty Bitch!" Bobby howled.

The woman smiled venom and let go of the trigger. The bit slid from his kneecap, along with a few bits of bone and blood. "Was that so hard?"

Bobby seethed, trying to fight through the pain. He shot daggers at Nasty Bitch, but the woman was unfazed.

"Is there an antidote?" she asked. When Bobby didn't immediately answer, she fired the drill into the air. He cringed at the _WHIRR_. "Is there an antidote?"

"Yes." Nasty Bitch raised her brows. Where is it? "On my laptop. Password is Frankenstein. Project Veritas."

Nasty Bitch set the drill aside and left the bathroom. It seemed like an eternity – though it was probably only a couple minutes – but the woman returned. She nodded shakily, relieved.

"Yeah, I think that checks out."

Nasty Bitch picked up the drill. Bobby immediately began to struggle against his restraints. "You said…"

"I said the question was how much pain you were willing to endure. If you'd been stubborn, it would've lasted for hours. But since you cooperated, it'll only be 15 minutes."

_WHIRR_. Bobby trembled in fear.

"Now. Where would you like to start? Hands or feet?" Nasty Bitch asked.

Tears began to well in Bobby's eyes. "The people I work for…"

"Hey! What did I say about that? _I. Don't. Care._" Nasty Bitch gave the drill another _WHIRR. _"Now say my name."

Bobby shook his head. "You're a crazy bitch."

The woman smiled. "You know, I think I like that better."

Crazy Bitch switched on the radio sitting on the counter and cranked the volume. Hard rock blasted over the speakers.

The music did a decent job of masking Bobby's screams.

* * *

Sarah walked briskly across the street to the parking lot. Cell phone tucked to her ear, a laptop under her other arm.

"Casey, it's me. I got the blueprint for an antidote. It just needs to be synthesized."

_"Get it over to the lab on Clark Street. Assuming it's not a pipe dream, it should only take a couple hours to produce."_

"Do we have the time?"

"_We do if you haul ass." A beat. "Am I to assume you found the guy responsible?"_

"Yeah. Might wanna send a Cleaner crew to 4122 Glenstone."

"_Is he alive?"_

"Of course. I wouldn't kill a potential intelligence asset. But get them there quick. I don't want him to bleed out."

Sarah clicked off her phone and slid into her car. God help any cop if he tried to stop her for speeding.

* * *

Sarah entered Chuck's room to find Ellie by his side. She offered his tear stricken sister a weak smile. "How is he?"

Ellie shook her head. "Not good. The doctor said…" she choked back a sob. "He said we should start saying our goodbyes."

Sarah's heart broke. _Please God, I know I don't deserve your help, but just give me this one. Let this serum work…_

"Who would hurt my brother?" Ellie asked. "He's never done anything to anyone."

"I don't know," was Sarah's reply. "But I'm sure the police will find the guy."

Ellie nodded, hoping that was the case. "Would you like a private moment?"

"Yeah, if that's okay."

The two women exchanged a quick hug before Ellie left. Soon as she was gone, Sarah removed a syringe from her jacket pocket. She found the intravenous medical tube stuck into his arm and inserted the needle. Pressing the plunger, his veins were soon pumped full of the syringe's bright green fluid.

Somehow, Sarah expected the medicine to work like magic. Like a kiss to Sleeping Beauty, he would instantly awake. But he didn't.

She captured his hand and passionately kissed his palm. Struggling to fight back her tears:

"I want to be completely truthful with you, Chuck. I did something really bad today. Something that I doubt even you could forgive me for, much less God. But I want you to know, I don't regret it. Not if it means you live.

"Over the past several months, one fact has become increasingly obvious: I don't deserve you. You're beautiful and sweet and funny and smart. You're so many things I'm not. You're compassionate… and innocent. You're a good influence on me. I think my mom would have really loved you.

"Which brings me to my next point. _I love you_. Which I'm not sure is a good thing. For you, I mean. If I had but one selfless bone in my body I would run away. Because I can't help but feel that I brought this upon you. That my presence stains you. I wish I were strong enough, noble enough to leave. Give you a chance to find a proper girl. Someone who actually deserves you, who is everything you deserve.

"But I'm not that girl. I'm a selfish bitch. And though I don't deserve you, _I AM _going to fight for you."

* * *

Sarah Walker held no illusions about her ultimate fate. Hadn't in a long time. She was destined for hell. Her actions on this day only reinforced that opinion in her mind.

But she was okay with that. As she sat in the hospital chapel, her mother's rosary in hand – which she hadn't held since her mother's funeral 17 years before – she decided that she was at peace with that knowledge. There was nothing on this mortal coil that could save her, but dammit, she could save _him_. Keep him safe. Give him a chance at a life.

She stared down at the beads and cross in her hand; somewhat surprised they didn't burn her flesh. She had found comfort in these on that rainy April day so many years ago. But then she buried the rosary away, along with her mother, as she also tried to bury her emotions. Because that's what she thought she needed to do to survive. Cut off anything human, anything that hurt.

But that isn't what she wanted anymore. The prospect of losing Chuck hurt, almost as much as losing her mother. It would be so easy to keep shutting her emotions away. If you can't feel, you can't get hurt.

Then she remembered the previous night, resting her head in Chuck's lap, his long fingers running through her hair… she felt a warmth the likes of which she hadn't felt since her mother. And if she was going to hell anyway, she might as well indulge. Soak up everything he could give her.

The doors behind her opened up. Sarah turned in her pew to see Ellie. She instantly knew it was good news.

"His BP and heart rate are up," Ellie smiled. "He's breathing on his own. It's still a bit touch and go. And he's still unconscious, but Sarah… I think he's gonna be okay."

Sarah looked heavenward and smiled. _So, you really do love us sinners, huh? Thank you._

Ellie quietly approached and slid into the pew beside her. Took Sarah's hand in her own and watched as the blonde woman grappled with her emotions.

"Are you okay?

Sarah smiled shakily. "Getting better. Though I should be asking you that. He's your brother."

"He's your boyfriend."

"It's hardly the same thing," Sarah said with a wry laugh. "He's your family."

"You're part of this family, too," Ellie said.

Sarah stared in disbelief, unsure. "Do you mean that?"

"Of course. Did you honestly not know?"

The thought that Ellie considered her part of the family was almost too much. "Why…? How can you…?"

"Because you're a sweetheart," Ellie said. "Chuck adores you and so do I. Besides, the way Chuck tells it, you don't have much in the way of family. Neither do we. Seems a good fit." A beat. "Plus, I've seen the way you look at him, the love in your eyes. That makes you A-Okay in my book."

Sarah didn't bother to fight off her tears. She allowed herself to be held, to soak in the love, the idea of being part of a family.

"Come on," Ellie finally said. "Let's go see how our boy's doing."

"Yeah," Sarah smiled. "Let's see how our boy's doing."

* * *

Sarah Walker closed the door of the confessional and sat. Rosary in hand, she crossed herself.

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It's been 17 years since my last confession…"


	7. Two Interludes

I would like to thank all of you who read this series. Particularly those who review. And especially those who regularly review. You know who you are.

Yeah, the last part was dark. And I know it probably didn't appeal to everyone. But this part is closer in tone to parts 1-5.

* * *

Sarah knocked briefly on Chuck's bedroom door before entering. She found him in bed, idly watching the Jake 2.0 daytime marathon on SciFi.

He still looked rough, the neurotoxin having done a real number on his system. But the doctors were optimistic about a full recovery. In the meantime, Big Mike was giving full medical leave so Chuck could recover from his "surgery".

Chuck looked up at her entrance and smiled. "Hey." Then he sniffed, curious. "What's that smell?"

"Well," Sarah drawled, "I thought about coming over and cooking you a get-well breakfast. But deciding A) that you're sick enough already and B) that I didn't want to burn down Ellie's beautiful kitchen, I stopped to get you a breakfast burrito."

Sarah proudly held out the take out bag. Chuck snatched it away and snuck his nose into the bag, inhaling deeply and dramatically. Sarah laughed.

"Never thought I'd say it, but I'm glad to have something besides Ellie's chicken soup."

"It gets better," Sarah continued. She then produced a plastic grocery bag. "I expected Ellie to be playing Mother Goose. So I picked you up a few more goodies." Chuck eagerly reached for the bag, but Sarah swatted his hand away. "Promise me you won't tattle."

"I promise, I promise! Gimme!" Sarah handed over the bag. Chuck immediately began rooting through it, his eyes lighting up. "Oh! Milk Duds! Mountain Dew! Sweet-Tarts! Magazines!"

"One of them has a great article on the making of the next Medal of Honor game," Sarah pointed out.

"Sarah, thank you. You're the best."

Sarah shrugged. "What are girlfriends for?"

Both noticed the distinct lack of "fake" in her statement. After a beat, Chuck said:

"So, you guys found the guy who, you know…"

"Yeah. With you not working, Casey is free to handle the… interrogation."

She hoped Chuck didn't pick up on her hesitation. Truth is, Casey took the attack on Chuck nearly as bad as she did. And Casey could be incredibly unpleasant when he was… cranky. Of course, she had no sympathy for Bobby Gilliam.

"Any ideas why he did this?"

"Not yet, but we're working on it." Sarah suddenly found the floor to be incredibly fascinating. "Look, I want to say I'm sorry."

Chuck seemed genuinely confused. "About what?"

"If I hadn't made you go home, you never would have been attacked." Then, suddenly furious, "And why the hell didn't I drive you home? How could I let you travel across town that late at night? It's just asking for trouble!"

"Hey! Hold on! It isn't your fault!"

"You nearly died, Chuck. Some bad man targeted you and I could do nothing to stop it."

"It's LA, Sarah. I could just as easily been targeted by a mugger."

"But you weren't. This was someone from my world. And that world keeps trying to…"_ Don't get emotional, Walker. If you do, you're never gonna get through what you want to say. _"I thought you were dying, Chuck. And that scared the hell out of me."

Chuck hesitated, unsure what to say. "I'm fine."

"Next time you might not be," Sarah snapped back. _Jeez, Walker, don't get angry with him. _He's_ the victim here. _She took a cleansing breath, trying to gather her thoughts. "I know we've both faced imminent day before. But this time was different. This time I wasn't there to save you. And I was afraid I would never…"

Tears were starting to form. _Dammit, Walker, what did I just say? Will you hurry up and spit it out before you start blubbering like a girl?_

"As you've probably figured out, I'm not very good talking about… feelings… and stuff. Some of it's my agent training, some of it goes back to my childhood." A beat. "Damn, this was so much easier when I practiced in front of the mirror. And when you were unconscious."

Chuck simply stared as Sarah tried to formulate her next thought.

"Aw, fuck it," she ultimately decided. "I'm more of a 'doer' anyway."

Sarah suddenly climbed onto the bed and straddled Chuck. Before he had any idea what was happening, she planted him with the best damn kiss of his life. And in a strange moment of clarity, Chuck realized Hemingway was right. The Earth did move.

For Sarah, it was catharsis. A release of energy. In this single act, she tried to convey every emotion she held into Chuck, hoping he would understand. No, she wasn't ready to say those three little words to him. Too fearful of rejection. But maybe, just maybe, if he didn't reject this act, accepted those feelings she was trying to convey, maybe next time she _could _say those words he so wanted to hear. The words she desperately wanted the courage to say.

When the kiss ended, and Chuck stared up into Sarah's blue eyes, all he could murmur was, "Good talk."

"Are you okay?" Sarah breathed.

"Yeah. Fine."

"No, I mean from the toxin. Are you sore or anything?"

"Only a little. Mostly I'm just tired. Why?"

Sarah shrugged away her jacket. Then in a fluid motion, she lifted her shirt off (the blue top with little buttons Chuck liked so much). Chuck tried very hard not to stare, but having a hottie wearing nothing but blue jeans and black lace bra astride him was hard to ignore.

"Just wanted to know," she murmured. "Now lay back. I promise to be gentle."

Sarah leaned forward and kissed him. Softly, gently. Savoring this, a "real" kiss. One that wasn't for cover, or chaste, but rather one where she truly gave herself to him.

Then suddenly she bolted upright, a thought occurring to her. She reached for her jacket, fished around inside a pocket. "Crap! Before we get too serious, I should get this…" She retrieved…

A small device. About the size of a digital tape recorder. Certainly not what Chuck expected. Off his curious look—

"Casey doesn't need to know."

Sarah flipped on the device that would effectively jam Casey's surveillance equipment and set it on the nightstand. She then turned back to Chuck and fixed him with a steady gaze. Cupping his face in her hands she said, "I want to be perfectly clear. This is not for a mission. This is not part of our cover. This is _me_, going after what _I_ want, which happens to be _you_. Understood?"

Chuck nodded dumbly, his mind on the verge of short-circuiting.

"Good. Now let's get your pants off."

* * *

To Be Continued... Right Now

* * *

"Glenlivet double on the rocks for the gentleman, Amber Bock for the lady."

Casey and Sarah thanked the waitress for the drinks. Soon as they regained their privacy, Casey turned to Sarah and said:

"You're a fucking moron."

"Bite me, Casey."

If he was gonna chew her out, Sarah thought the least he could do was take her to a better bar. This place wasn't a dive, but not for a lack of effort.

"Isn't it Thing One they teach you in Spook School? Emotional attachments are bad. Especially when it comes to the assets you're assigned to protect."

"Please, like you've never developed an attachment. Never fallen in love."

"You're right. I have. Know what? Still was a bad idea." Casey took a sip off his scotch. "Don't fool yourself, Walker. You don't belong here any more than I do. No matter what sweet lil sister tells you."

"I like these people, Casey."

"And you think I don't? Bartowski's a decent kid, much as I razz on him. And his sister makes a mean veal parmesan. But this isn't our life. We're spies, Walker. We don't get a spouse, two kids, and a white picket fence. We sacrifice those desires so other people can have them."

"Yeah, so you've told me."

Sarah drained half her beer in one swill. Casey carefully analyzed her.

"Funny thing, ya know. For an hour this morning the only thing the surveillance taps in Bartowski's home picked up was static."

Sarah shot him a look. _Don't fucking broach this topic._

Casey groaned. "I'll say again, you're a fucking moron."

"You know, in the world of Central Intelligence, it isn't unheard of for its employees to have families, to have lives."

"Yeah, know what they're called? Analysts. They spend their days in their little cubicles at Langley researching news footage from East Bumfuckistan trying to gauge whether _El Presidente_ is grotesquely fat or suffering from diabetes. Deep cover operatives don't get that luxury."

Sarah finished off her beer and signaled to the waitress for another.

"This will only lead to problems," Casey stated flatly.

"How so? My priority is to protect the asset. Now I have added incentive to do so."

"And what happens if you fail, huh? What happens if the next guy actually manages to kill Chuck?"

"Not gonna happen."

"You don't know that. Walker, I know you. Seen a dozen agents just like you. Spotty upbringing, emotionally damaged. Get too attached to an assignment, to an asset, something goes bad. Wind up in a fleabag motel room with a bottle of whiskey and a loaded Sig Sauer, wondering if you should leave Room Service a note apologizing for the blood and brain matter stains you leave on the carpet."

Sarah hid her eyes. She wouldn't give Casey the satisfaction.

"You should ask for reassignment."

"No."

"I should ask that you be reassigned. If for no other reason than to save you from yourself."

Sarah's eyes shot up, horrified. If he made the request, her career would be over. Then he said:

"But I won't. Even though I'd rather the three of us _not _wind up dead, which is the way it's probably gonna go down. Frankly, I'd feel like shit ruining the career of the CIA's rising star." Casey leaned in and said strongly, "But watch yourself, Walker. The first whiff I get that your affections for Chuck are compromising your job integrity, clouding your judgment, I _will _make the request. So you better keep your ass, and more importantly, your _head _in line."

Casey leaned back, took another sip of scotch. "Unofficially, I wish you the best of luck."

Sarah couldn't hide the surprise that flashed across her features. Casey merely held up his glass in salute.

"I really do love him," she said.

Casey waived her off. "Please, keep it to yourself. I hate throwing up good scotch."

Sarah grinned. Couldn't resist the urge to screw with him. "He's a great lay."

"I'm not listening."

"Extremely attentive. And he instinctively knew where to touch me."

"Stop it."

"And he's _waaaaay_ bigger than you might think."

"Do you want me to riddle you with bullet holes?"

"Seriously, I thought I was gonna have to wrap a Hefty bag around him for a condom."

"Now you're just being facetious."

"It'd been _sooo_ long since I'd had multiple orgasms."

A beat. "Okay, I'm listening."

END OF PART


	8. Girl Talk

Once again, thank you for all the wonderful feedback. Keep it up, guys, I know you can do it. BTW, expect another part no later than Friday.

* * *

Sex. Sarah forgot how fun it could actually be.

As a teen it was a distraction. A way to kill time. Sandwiched between the awkward part where she asked an older man to buy her beer and the part with the awkward redressing.

Then there was CIA sex with an asset or mark. A means to an end. To earn trust or gather information.

Then there was Bryce sex, which was always competitive. An exhibition of prowess, dominance. Two hyperactive and alpha beings fighting for superiority.

With Chuck it was about pleasure. His, hers, and theirs. Not merely an escape, or a means to an end, or a competition.

And boy, was there a lot of pleasure. A ridiculous amount of pleasure. So much pleasure that Sarah took every available opportunity to jump Chuck's bones. Whether it be at his apartment, her hotel, in her car, in his car, or even the Home Theatre Room and Cage at the Buy More. She tried to convince him to try the storage room at the Orange Orange. Megan and Lacey were even willing to provide lookout. But Chuck nixed that idea.

While the sex was fantastic – seriously, really, really, fantastic – it wasn't the best part. It was the intimacy. The act of holding Chuck and being held by him. Of watching his face as he slept, his features free of the usual worry that accompanied being the Intersect. And then there was the fact that she didn't immediately have to get up and redress when they were finished.

Tonight, Sarah watched as Chuck slept. Looking sweet, peaceful, his face basked in the moonlight. She reached out and swept a few locks of hair away from his eyes. Smiled as he moaned, instinctively moved into her touch.

"I'll be back," she whispered. Chuck moaned again, almost in acknowledgement.

Sarah carefully sat up in bed. Found her panties and slipped them on. Then grabbed Chuck's work shirt and diligently buttoned up.­­­­­­­­­­­

* * *

Sarah quietly padded from Chuck's bedroom. After a pit stop in the bathroom, she made her way through the darkened apartment towards the kitchen.

Suddenly a light flipped on in the kitchen. The refrigerator. It was only then that Ellie realized she wasn't alone.

"Sarah, hey."

"Hey."

Despite their stark physical differences, at the present moment, there were several similarities. Namely the fact they both wore men's clothing (Ellie only donning Devon's pajama top). Tousled hair. Unmistakable gleams in their eyes.

Both women got lucky on this night.

"So…" Sarah drawled.

"Yeah," Ellie agreed.

They shifted awkwardly. Unsure exactly how to proceed. Finally Ellie asked:

"Want some ice cream?"

"Okay."

* * *

Sarah and Ellie sat by the fountain in the courtyard. A pint of Rocky Road for the agent, mint chocolate chip for the doctor.

"I mean, for us, married life has been a breeze," Ellie said between bites of ice cream. "Okay, maybe not a breeze. We still have issues. All couples do. Marriage doesn't stop that. But we lived together so long before we married… basically the only difference is we file our taxes jointly now."

"It doesn't change things?" Sarah asked.

"It cements things. I find it reassuring to know we're in it for the long haul. I mean, I've known for a long time now, but marriage makes it official."

"I don't know," Sarah sighed. "I don't think I'm the marriage sort of girl."

"So you're planning to live with my brother in sin forever?" Ellie teased.

"Well, I'm notorious for my commitment issues."

Both women took a bite of their own ice cream, then swapped pints.

"If you break my brother's heart I'll leave your broken body in a ditch," Ellie said simply.

Sarah didn't even flinch. "I'd expect nothing less."

"I'm not being cute. When Jill left, it devastated Chuck. And believe me when I say the love for you that sparkles in his eyes is far more intense than it ever was for her."

Even the ice cream couldn't cool the warm feeling that comment ignited in her stomach. "She left him for some guy named Bryce, right?"

"Bryce Larkin. Good riddance to both of them. Of course, I'm sorry he's dead, but still…"

"He helped break your brother's heart."

"Exactly! And Jill, that little tramp. I never liked her, you know. There was always something… phony… about her. Almost like Chuck was a clinical study to her."

Sarah couldn't squelch the curiosity rising in her. "Well, her loss, my gain. It sounds like that Bryce guy was a real piece of work."

"No kidding. Of course, I should have seen _that_ coming too. He always came across as the womanizing sort. But seriously, what kind of man sleeps with his best friend's girl?"

"Not a good one."

"They're lucky I didn't perform appendectomy's on them. Without anesthesia."

This was yet another reason that Sarah often envied Chuck's life. He had someone who loved him unconditionally, who would do anything for him. She could almost remember what that was like.

On the flip side, Sarah once more shook her head at Bryce's behavior. In the end, she understood why he orchestrated the events of Chuck's expulsion from Stanford. He thought he was protecting Chuck. But she couldn't understand the purpose of sleeping with Jill. Of course, Sarah never understood why he had _any_ of the non-job related sexual interludes he did while _they _were dating.

"Seriously though, how are you guys?" Ellie asked.

"Never better," Sarah said honestly.

"But you're not thinking about marriage?"

"I… want to make things easy on Chuck. When he finally realizes he can do better."

"Are you kidding? How can he do better than smart, sweet, and insanely beautiful? Heck, _I _would date you."

Sarah smiled despite herself. "I keep expecting him to run away in horror."

"You've been together for over a year. Spent the night together countless times. If he hasn't run yet, he's not going to. A year is plenty of time to learn all about a person's quirks, eccentricities, and nasty little habits. What's the worst you have going for you?"

_I kill people for a living._ "I snore. Loudly."

"Is that what that was? I thought something was wrong with the air conditioner."

Sarah was about to protest when she noticed Ellie's teasing smile.

"Well, if that's the worst you got, I'll beat Chuck over the head if he tries to leave you."

"Don't worry about that. I've decided I won't let him leave. My abandonment issues trump my commitment issues." Then, a beat, "Does it bother you that I'm not looking to marry him?"

"I admit I'm a little disappointed. If for no other reason than I'd love to see my brother dressed up and walk down the aisle. I just want you to promise me you'll always look after him."

"I promise," Sarah swore.

"I feel I should thank you," Ellie continued. "Before you came along, Chuck had spent so many years in a shell. Honestly, I was wondering if he would ever find anyone who could coax him out. He's much better for having you in his life. You're a Godsend."

_Oh Ellie. If only you knew how screwed up that statement is._

"Chuck is a special man. I think he's made me better, too."

Ellie released a little squeal of delight. When Sarah looked at her strangely she said, "Sorry. I just love how obvious it is that you're gaga over my brother."

"There's a lot to be gaga about."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Like how he can read my moods. How he knows when I need a laugh, he tells a stupid joke. Or even how he puts up with my obsession for old movies. How he'll drop by with my favorite pie from my favorite bakery. Rub that knot between my shoulders after a rough day dealing with stupid customers. How he sends me flowers at work."

"He sends you flowers at work?" Ellie asked, delighted. "Way to go, baby brother."

After a few moments, almost embarrassed, Sarah said, "I've never had this before."

"What? Mint chocolate chip?"

"No. I mean another girl to talk to about things. Like boys and feelings and stuff."

"Sarah, I swear, you are an absolute sweetheart. But I confess, I find you strange at times."

"Yeah. I get that." Sarah freely admitted.

"Of course, that might be why you and Chuck are so perfect together." Sarah snorted in agreement. "If you ever do wanna talk, I want you to know, the door's always open. Feel free to come to me with anything."

"Thanks, Ellie." Sarah thought for a moment, then said, "I want you to know: I'll be here as long as Chuck wants me. And I promise, I will do everything to keep him happy, healthy, and safe."

"Good enough for me." A beat. "Oh, and if you ever change your mind about marriage, I'd gladly be your maid of honor."

"Seeing how I don't know many other women, you might need to double as flower girl, too."

"I suppose I can handle you not being by official sister-in-law, but you gotta promise to make me an 'Auntie Ellie' someday."

Sarah gagged on her mint chocolate chip. Ellie actually had to slap her on the back.

_Her? Breeding? Didn't the world have enough problems?_ "We'll see," Sarah coughed.

Much as the thought of little ones appealed to some part of Sarah's conscience, she knew it could never be. For one, her lifestyle wasn't conducive to motherhood. And two, she was convinced she'd be a lousy mother. She could just imagine giving dating advice to a teenage daughter. _Sweetheart, if he tries to make you do anything you're uncomfortable with, take your pocketknife and jam it into his scrotum. He'll get the message._

Sarah didn't think they made Mother's Day cards for stuff like that.

Then again, her inadequacies might be counteracted by Chuck. He would probably make a good…

_Oh, knock it off, Walker. You only just became his _real _girlfriend. Never mind the fact if the bosses catch wind you're no longer pretending on the relationship front, they'll transfer your ass to a polar substation where the only thing you'll be protecting are some stupid penguins. _

"Of course," Ellie said, snapping Sarah from her reverie, "when I say you can talk to me about anything, please feel free to omit the more intimate details."

Sarah grinned. "Aw, but Ellie, I'm _dying_ to tell someone about the way Chuck gently caresses my body."

"Eww."

"How he sweeps away my hair and delivers butterfly kisses to the nape of my neck. He's long figured out that's all it takes to get my motor running."

"That is _not Awesome._" Ellie dumped her ice cream carton in Sarah's lap. "On that note, I'm going back to bed."

"But I thought we were having fun with the girl talk."

"We were, but you ruined it. Good night, Sarah."

"Good night, Ellie."

"Are you staying for breakfast?"

"I think so."

"See you in a few hours, then," Ellie smiled as she disappeared into the apartment.

Sarah set the ice cream cartons aside, a pensive look suddenly appearing on her face. Ellie raised a few critical points. Points Sarah should have thought about before leaping into an actual relationship with her brother.

Admitting her reluctance to marry was probably a good thing. It would cut off any expectations from Ellie and Awesome. Not that becoming Mrs. Bartowski was unappealing – Sarah was sure she could suffer through it – but the CIA certainly wouldn't go for it. Even if she lied and presented it as "added cover".

As for children… jeez. For that to even be possible, Sarah would need to undergo "corrective surgery" – one of the first things the CIA insisted she take care of when she became a deep cover operative.

Sarah hadn't minded. The thought of children had never occurred to her. Again, she truly believed she'd be a lousy mother. Poopy diapers and 3 AM feedings. School recitals and soccer practice…

Okay, maybe it wouldn't be _so _bad. But while Sarah _was_ a selfish bitch – as she confessed to an unconscious Chuck – she _wasn't_ cruel. And cruelty would be to bring children into a world where their mother could be killed at any moment. And Sarah knew from experience how growing up without a mother could really fuck up a kid. Plus, she didn't think it fair to leave Chuck as a single father, even though he'd have a great support system.

Sarah chuckled. Chuck. Never before him did she even fathom the possibility of rearing a child. Certainly never with Bryce. She couldn't trust him to feed her fish.

"E-gad!" she actually cried out. She cringed, looked about. With all the bugs hidden around this complex, Casey was bound to pick that up. Still, the point remained: Life was never this complicated when she was simply going around, seducing people, stealing information, and occasionally double-tapping some poor schmuck in the head. Now she was having all these… _girly feelings _as Casey would so eloquently say.

The highly trained agent in Sarah found that stressful and alarming. Very rarely was she allowed to be a girl – at least in non-work situations. With increasing frequency, she found herself wanting to be one. Chuck made her want to be one. That was all fine and well – unless those feelings made her soft. Made her drop her guard. Or got Chuck killed.

_No! Happy thoughts!_

"You think too much, Walker. Just go with your instincts. Why mess with success?" Then, facing reality, "Live for the moment. For tomorrow you may die."

* * *

Sarah stopped by the kitchen to drop the empty ice cream cartons into the trash. Her bare feet padded across the apartment. She quietly pushed open Chuck's bedroom door and slipped in.

"Casey, if you're listening, you might wanna shut off the tapes," she whispered. Smiled as she imagined Casey eating milk and cookies, rolling his eyes and flipping the switch off.

Sarah slipped off her panties and undid all the shirt's buttons. Delicately crawled back into bed and beneath the covers. With a grin, she went about "rousing" him awake.

Awake he did, instantly realizing where Sarah's hand was. "What are you…?"

"I'm living for the moment," Sarah breathed.

END OF PART


	9. Dreams of Living and Dying

Okay boys and girls. Sorry for the delay, but I had some serious Internet issues for the better part of a week. This is probably the last part of this series. Just a quirky thing of mine, but I don't want to continue a series when the actual series canon will eventually overwrite it. Or something like that. It made sense in my head. But never fear, I will continue to write various "Chuck" fics. I already have an idea for another one-shot.

Oh. Give me feedback.

* * *

Sarah awoke, feeling refreshed. Light. Warm. Despite the fact she was curled up in a fetal position on a wooden floor. Except it wasn't a floor. She sat up, looked around. Confusion flashed.

It was a pier. And not just any pier. She was—

"Home," Sarah whispered, astonished. Baltimore. On the shore of the Chesapeake. As a little girl, she and her mother would come here on sunny weekend afternoons to watch the sailboats.

Sarah felt a warm summer breeze whip through her hair. In the midday sun, sloops and yachts traversed the sparkling blue waters of the bay.

As she stood, she happened to glance down at her clothes. A simple white sundress. Not something she'd choose for herself, but it did possess a certain simple charm and elegance.

"Hey, baby girl."

Sarah whipped around at the voice. Before her stood a beautiful woman. Mid 30s. Flowing blonde hair. Blue eyes. The warmest smile. Wearing a dress similar to Sarah's. Looking like the sweetest of dreams, before the cancer came, turning her life into a nightmare.

Tears welling in her eyes, Sarah whimpered, "Momma?"

"It's me, baby."

Sarah didn't know if her feet ever actually touched the ground. The only sensation she cared about was the warm embrace of her mother, something she hadn't felt in over 17 years.

"Momma, momma, momma," was Sarah's mantra. She didn't care if she couldn't form a coherent thought or sentence. Her momma was holding her, rubbing her back, making those wonderful cooing sounds as she sobbed into her neck.

"It's okay, baby. Momma's here."

It seemed like forever that Momma held her, but for Sarah, it wasn't long enough. Finally the embrace was broken. Momma smiled, brushed away Sarah's tears with her thumb.

"Wow. Look at you," Momma marveled. "I always knew you'd grow up to be a heartbreaker." Sarah giggled, positively giddy. "The boys must trip over themselves getting to you."

"Sometimes," Sarah shyly admitted.

"My beautiful baby." Momma's face was etched with pain. "I am so sorry I had to leave you." She cupped Sarah's cheek in her hand. Sarah placed little kisses in the palm.

"S'okay, momma. Not your fault." Then, in a little girl voice, "Tell me you love me?"

"Oh baby. I love you so much. With all my soul." Then, Momma added sadly, "I just hoped I wouldn't see you again so soon."

Sarah flinched, like Momma had physically slapped her. Momma never… Suddenly Sarah understood. She looked out onto the bay, the picture perfect scene. Then to her mother, looking radiant.

"Momma… am I dead?"

Momma didn't want to answer. But she couldn't lie. "I'm sorry, baby."

Sarah looked about in confusion. "But I thought…"

"What baby?"

"I expected… more brimstone."

Momma shook her head sadly. "Baby, you can't honestly believe you're a bad person."

Sarah released a humorless laugh. "Are you serious?"

"Baby, there is such a thing as forgiveness for those who want it. For those who are truly repentant."

"And that's me?"

Momma simply waved to their surroundings. Whatever further reaction she was expecting, it wasn't joyous laughter.

"So I'm… safe?" Sarah asked.

"I wish you wouldn't think of it that way," Momma admonished.

"Why? I'm with you. Everything's okay."

"What about your life? That young man you like so much? Chuck."

The name effectively put a damper on Sarah joy. "Chuck?" A sadness seeped in, a longing. She wouldn't see him again. Not for a while at least.

"Such a nice young man," Momma said. "Really the first decent choice you've ever made in a man."

"Momma!" Sarah moaned, embarrassed, but pleased she approved. Momma simply smiled.

* * *

­­Suddenly Sarah found herself and Momma transported inside a restaurant. Nothing fancy. A family eatery. And a terribly familiar one. Then it hit her.

"This is Mikey's Crab Shack," she realized. They ate here when she was a girl. Sarah loved the fact she got to crack open her food with a rubber mallet. Then, when she was 16, Mikey's had been her first – and only – legitimate job as a teenager. It only lasted three months, and all she did was buss tables and waitress, but she'd been happy. Then her dad-- Well, never mind that.

"This place closed when I was 20," Sarah said.

"It's been reopened," Momma answered.

"It closed because Mikey had a heart attack."

A kindly older man suddenly appeared at their table. Mikey. With a wide smile and beer belly. Mikey lived to boil crabs and regale customers with stories about the good old days of Johnny Unitas.

"Sarah? What are you doin' here?" Mikey asked. "Didn't think we'd be seein' you this soon."

Sarah shrugged. "Life, you know…"

"Yeah. One minute I'm watchin' Ripkin and the Orioles, the next I'm here." He then slid two heaping plates of crab legs and butter sauce before the two ladies. "You old enough to drink now, girly, or you still bummin' off bums?"

"I'm legal," Sarah smiled.

"Fine. I'll bring a pitcher. Now dig in."

So the women did. It was an extraordinary afternoon for Sarah. It was the most relaxed and carefree that she could ever remember being. An afternoon with her mom. Laughing. Eating. Talking. Expect for being dead, Sarah had never been happier. Not that being dead seemed all bad.

After beer and crabs, mother and daughter hit the waterfront and grabbed two ice cream cones.

"So. Were you happy?" Momma asked.

The question startled Sarah. "Happy?"

"Yes, happy. With your life." Momma was disappointed when Sarah seemingly had to think hard about the question. "It shouldn't be that difficult to decide."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"You guess so? You don't sound sure."

Sarah shrugged. She didn't get the point. "Well, you know. Work was a bitch sometimes." With another shrug, "Most of the time."

"Then why did you do it?"

Sarah stopped in her tracks, waved away the question. "Okay, there are so many things that I miss about not having my mom around, but having her question my choice of work and men isn't one of them."

"I'm not questioning your choice in men," Momma said. "Well, not the most recent one anyway."

Sarah's retort was interrupted by a high-pitched electric hum. Her head snapped around, trying to discern where the sound was coming from. She failed to notice the relieved look on her mother's face.

"What is that?"

"I'm sure it's nothing. Now don't change the subject, young lady."

Sarah snapped back around to Momma, properly admonished. "Sorry momma." She then thought for several moments. "It was just work. Kept me out of trouble. The way I was going, the CIA saved my life."

"Yes, so I saw," Momma said, a frown on her face. "Sometime we're going to have a long talk about your teenage years. Just because I wasn't around is no excuse for some of your behavior."

Sarah suddenly found her sandals interesting. "I know, momma."

"So why did you stay with the CIA?"

Sarah shrugged. "Because I didn't know how to do anything else."

"Again, that's no excuse."

"It wasn't all bad," Sarah defended. "I did a lot of good. Helped a lot of people. Kept America safe for democracy…and stuff."

"At what cost? You had no friends or family. Not even a home. Those are the things that make life worth living." Momma could see the stubborn gleam in her daughter's eyes. She lifted Sarah's chin and forced her daughter to meet her gaze.

"Maybe I am being a nagging mother. But baby, I can see it in your eyes. The disdain for your job. The things you were forced to do in the name of duty. I also see the affection for Chuck and his family. Frankly, I don't see why you were so conflicted."

Sarah turned away, angry. "Because I didn't have a choice. Even if I quit, I couldn't have a happily ever after. The CIA wouldn't let me stick around to compromise their asset. And it isn't like we could elope. The government would have moved heaven and earth to find us. So I stayed with the job, with Chuck. Absorbed all the happiness I could." Sarah's voice turned melancholy, remembering it would be some time before she met her love again. "What the hell does it matter now anyway?"

Suddenly, Sarah again recoiled at the penetrating sound of a high-pitched electric whine. This time the sound was far louder. "What the hell is that?" she asked, alarmed.

Momma smiled, took hold of Sarah's hands. "Baby, we haven't much time."

"I'm dead. Don't we have all the time in the world?"

"Well, _I_ do…" Momma said mysteriously. "I have three things to say, so I want you to listen, okay?" Sarah nodded obediently. "First, I love you. Always have, always will. So there's never a need to doubt that." Sarah burst into a goofy smile. "Second, death is for the dying, but life is for the living. Third, never leave unfinished business. Can you remember all that, baby?"

"Yes, momma."

Momma smiled. "That's my good girl." She then gave Sarah a quick kiss and hug. "Now I don't want to see you back anytime soon, okay?"

"Momma, I don't understand…"

A blinding pain exploded through Sarah's chest. She crumpled to her knees. Tears in her eyes, Sarah reached for her momma. "Help…me…"

But Momma didn't move to help. "It's okay, baby," she soothed. "Pain is okay. Means you're still alive. Just don't let it be the only thing you feel."

Sarah screamed as another consuming burst of pain crippled her body—

* * *

"Blue combipen!" Casey ordered. "Directly into the vein in her neck! Now!"

Chuck found the blue combipen from the emergency pack and jammed it into Sarah's neck. Its medicine released with a _HISS_.

"Clear!" Casey called. He then pressed the button on the portable defibrillator.

Sarah's shirt torn open, two leads attached to her chest, she jolted from the electric shock. Her eyes flew open and she released a pained gasp of life.

Both men had to struggle to get clear. Sarah thrashed about wildly, her fists slamming into the cushions of the backseat of Casey's Suburban.

Slowly, Sarah fury shifted to tears, until she was bawling uncontrollably. The men stared, shocked expressions riveted to their faces.

"Holy…" Chuck babbled.

Breathless, Casey could only reply, "Yeah."

"We need to…"

"Yeah," Casey again replied. "Hold on to her."

Chuck carefully scooped the crying Sarah into his arms. After Casey slammed the door shut, he flew around to the driver's side and climbed in.

"Fasten your seatbelt," he advised.

Chuck didn't have time. The Suburban flew out of the warehouse at the speed of sound, ripping through the night on the way to the hospital.

As Sarah continued to bawl uncontrollably, Chuck did the only thing he could. He gently stroked her hair and whispered reassurances into her ear.

"It's okay. You're okay. I'm here. I'm not leaving you."

Sarah clutched at his shirt, face buried in his chest. Inconsolable, unwilling to let go.

* * *

At the periphery of her consciousness, voices—

"_Is she gonna be okay?" a worried voice asked. Chuck._

"_Doc says yes. Course, she's loaded up with enough drugs to knock out a baby elephant." A beat. "Jeez, Bartowski, if you're gonna keep your sphincter that tight, you might wanna consider eating a lump of coal. You can shit Walker a get-well diamond." And that was Casey._

Unbeknownst to the boys, Sarah's eyes cracked open.

"Wuv… ou…" she murmured.

The boys snapped to attention. Both were well dressed, looking proper. Chuck held a bouquet of lilies in his hand. Of course, the scene was slightly ruined by Casey's scowl.

"What did I tell you, Walker? I'm not remotely interested."

"Not… ou… dumbass. Chuck."

After a moment of confusion, a wide grin overtook the younger man's face. Casey merely grunted in relief, with a pinch of disgust. "Oh. That makes more sense. Still disturbing as hell, though."

Chuck glared. Casey ignored him.

"Wha happ'n?"

Casey leaned in closer, this time with a surprising softness to his voice. "We hit the warehouse, remember? Bartowski flashed on a crate."

An assortment of images flashed through Sarah's mind. Mission prep with the bosses. The warehouse. A crate. When they opened it up—

"It was booby trapped," Casey continued. "Some sort of gas. You caught a whiff, induced anaphylaxis. I think we actually lost you for a minute."

Chuck paled at the memory.

"Ou guys 'kay?"

"Expect for Bartowski pissing himself, we're fine."

Chuck glared again. Sarah nodded sleepily. Thankful.

"Look, I gotta report back to the bosses," Casey said. "Got a couple Spooks in plainclothes lurking about on protective detail. Don't anticipate any problems, but you never know."

"M-kay," Sarah sleepily murmured. "K-cee? Don't wuv ou, but ou nice. Sumtimes."

Casey rolled his eyes. "Amusing when she's stoned, huh?"

"Casey, little more consideration please? She almost died."

"Unclench. She's fine." To Sarah, "Or you better be. It's a pain in the ass breakin' in new partners."

Sarah smiled goofily. That's a Casey Compliment for you. Even in her drugged stupor, she reached for Chuck. "Stay wif me?"

Chuck shyly looked to Casey. Though the older man knew that his and Sarah's relationship had taken a very real turn, they played it cool in his presence. Again, Casey rolled his eyes.

"Stay, dumbass," he ordered. Chuck silently mocked "Stay, dumbass" as Casey left the room.

"Hole me peez?" Sarah asked.

Very carefully, Chuck maneuvered into the narrow hospital bed. It was a tight fit, but by lying stretched out on his side, he managed to find room. His hand immediately found hers.

"Saw my momma," she said. "She likes ou."

Chuck frowned in confusion. But he gently kissed the top of her head and whispered, "I'm glad."

"So'm I," Sarah managed before slipping back to sleep.

* * *

Two days later, Sarah was lying in Chuck's bed, wearing nothing but a Star Wars shirt declaring "Sith Happens." Despite feeling much better, Chuck – and by extension, Ellie – insisted on babying her. Not that she minded.

Chuck entered, carrying a tray of food and several DVD rentals.

"Okay, for the lady I bring a piping hot bowl of Ellie's famous cream of mushroom soup and an ice cold Sprite."

Chuck placed the food tray on the bed, allowing Sarah to savor the aroma. Being sick sucked, but Ellie's cooking was always first class.

"Next, I bring the lady a wide selection of viewing pleasures. Including: Paris When It Sizzles, An Affair to Remember, Some Like it Hot, and McClintock. Still trying to figure that last one out."

"Hey! That movie is funny. Especially when Maureen O'Hara gets knocked down the muddy embankment."

"I'll take your word for it."

Sarah pouted, batted her eyes. "Won't you watch them with me? An Affair to Remember always makes me cry. I could really use someone to hold me."

Chuck caved in two seconds. Bashfully he murmured, "Okay."

Sarah moved the tray aside and beckoned for Chuck to join her. He crawled into bed and took her hand.

"Look," she began, "we've danced around the topic for two days now. I want you to know it wasn't the drugs talking. I do love you."

Sarah allowed a few moments for her words to process through his brain. After allowing another few moments of goofy smile time, Sarah continued her speech.

"I'm whacko, okay?" she began. "My life, as a whole, has been insane. I had a rotten childhood, and for the most part, a rotten adulthood. Then I met you. So if we're going to work, then I need to ask a really big favor of you."

"Okay."

"Be patient with me. In many regards, I'm emotionally stunted. And I have enough issues to fill an entire wing at the Library of Congress. I will often act in ways that will leave you confused, hurt, and probably angry as hell. But that's because I have no experience in being an actual person. Before you, I hadn't had a real friend since grade school. And I'd never had a proper boyfriend that I could proudly show off to my Momma. So all this is brand new to me."

Sarah could tell he was struggling to keep up. Ultimately he said, "With you so far."

"It's all very convoluted, but ultimately my position can be summed up by two points. First, whether it was real or simply a figment of my oxygen deprived mind, my Momma approved of you. And that means the world to me. Second, I love you. And I want you to know right now that no matter what stupid shit flows out of my mouth or whatever stupid acts I perform, it doesn't change point number two. Now I know I'm rambling, but give me a sign you understand."

Chuck blinked, stared at her for several moments. Just when she was really getting concerned, Chuck took her face in his hands and planted a kiss on her lips.

It was pure electricity. When Chuck finally pulled away, leaving a dazed Sarah in his wake, she dreamily murmured, "Oh. Good talk."

"It's all very convoluted," Chuck smiled, "but ultimately my position can be summed up by two points. First, by saying you love me, you will never be rid of me. Second, well, see point one."

It was Sarah's turn to reveal a goofy smile. "Good talk." She then grabbed Chuck by the shirt and pulled him atop her. "Now come here. I've got an awful lot of living to do."

END


End file.
